Benjamin Brooks-Dutton has only been writing Life as a widower since January this year and he already has a widespread audience both UK and international all of whom in one way or another are connected with grief for the loss of someone they loved very much. Ben has made the finalist list of the Fresh voice category and here he shares Being Positive with us.
When someone close to you dies, the well-wisher who tells you to ‘stay positive’ should be prepared for a somewhat negative response. What if you weren’t that positive a person in the first place? You’ve certainly never felt less optimistic than you do right now, so staying positive may pose somewhat of a challenge.
But I’m learning that there’s nothing wrong with being positive whilst grieving. In fact I find myself using positivity as my weapon in an imaginary duel with the grim shadow of death. I’m playing Luke Skywalker dressed in white and ready to rumble and Grief comes as Darth Vader, dark, dangerous and trying to lure me to the shadowy side.
Grief puts up a good fight – a physical and emotional exchange mixing hard-hitting blows and mind games.
Grief tells me it’s my fault that my wife is dead. He tells me I have nothing left to live for. He tells me I’ll never be able to feel like I’m really living again. He makes me think the darkest thoughts I’ve ever thought and feel the most negative feelings I’ve ever felt. And when I try to laugh in his face and beat him with positive retorts, his harsh hand tries to slap me back down and put me firmly back in my wretched place.
But I’m tougher than I look and my trump card is that I’m not trying to win. I know Grief will be back for more if I put up too strong a fight so I decide to settle for a draw.
So when Grief throws blame at me, I go for a run. I’m pretty fast and I can go for miles without it catching me so I get some time off to empty my head or think about other things.
When he suggests I have nothing to live for, I spend time with my son. He confuses the hell out of Grief. He throws little soft punches made of joy, laughter and mischief that Grief can’t defend. Just as Grief thinks he’s got me, my son will say something random like, “I love music, Daddy. I love Mickey Mouse!” Or he’ll try to do the bum wiggle a friend taught him at the weekend, where his bottom doesn’t actually move but he thinks it does because it’s up in the air and his excitedly clenched fists are shaking from side to side. If I’m lucky he might even be my second in the duel and follow me around the house whilst biting on the tail of my shirt pretending I’m the train to his carriage.
When Grief makes me think dark thoughts, I think about the good times with my wife. It hurts like hell at the moment because the memories make my eyes go misty and I can’t see that Grief is about to throw a sharp jab, but I keep doing it anyway because it’s worth the pain.
And if he does slap me back down, I crawl off beaten, wait for the wounds to heal and come back a little bit stronger.
Grief is a dark place where light seldom shines, but when a spark occasionally flickers it’s unfair of Grief to torture us for our moments of positivity.
Sorrow doesn’t bring a dead person back to life. Negative thoughts don’t honour the people we’ve lost more than positive ones. And when the person loved you the way you know they did, it’s reasonable to assume that they wouldn’t get any pleasure from seeing you so constantly forlorn.
That said, sometimes when I feel frustration at my somewhat cactus-like eyes, which can go days with no sign of water, I can hear my wife (the most entertaining person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing) saying, “Benji, you’re not sad enough for my liking. I deserve a lot more tears!”
She does, but she also deserves a happy little boy, so I’m not going to beat myself up if I have a good day.
Ben was widowed on 10th November 2012 aged 33. He started writing in January 2013 following a fruitless search for men in a similar position to himself, widowed young and caring for a grieving toddler. He published his first blog post in January 2013, just two months after the tragic death of his 33-year-old wife, Desreen Brooks. His blog quickly generated widespread media coverage and amassed a devoted UK and international audience.
Ben’s original intention was to try to encourage other men to open up, to challenge perceptions of male grief and to attempt to force a reappraisal of the stiff upper lip being a badge of honour when it comes to loss. His writing, however, soon attracted people from different walks of life united in their own immediate loss, or their care and concern for grieving loved ones.
To read Ben’s blog please visit Life as a widower tweet with him @lifeasawidower Like his Facebook page and find him on YouTube
About Marianne Weekes
BLOGS AT: Mari's World; TWITTER: @maris_world. Mother of four and nana to three, Marianne Weekes has spent half her life in the UK and the other half in Italy. Blogging since Jan 2010, she finds it hard to drag herself away from her laptop and writes about food, travel and lifestyle. Always on the lookout for the next thing which takes her down many surprising lanes.
Anya from Older Single Mum and The Healer
Saturday 1st of June 2013
What a wonderful piece. I spend a lot of time with a close friend who was widowed at 45. She, too, lacks like minded company so will point her in the direction of this blog. I am sure she will gain much comfort from it. And I hope that Ben receives as much from his readers as he surely gives them.